


#1 Crush

by Hannah_BWTM



Series: A Little Bit Brighter [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, BAMF Malcolm Bright, Coffee date, Excercise is good for you, Friendly competition, Friends to Lovers, M/M, The Boys Be Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_BWTM/pseuds/Hannah_BWTM
Summary: Six months after the Jet Fuel drug case resulted in Bright meeting VA counselor JT Tarmel, Malcolm finds himself in the middle of an action packed case. Afterwards, he returns to New York for a coffee catch up and a tour of Malcolm's loft with the man he's been wanting for months.JT suggests a friendly competition, which quickly morphs into something more.A shameless BAMF Malcolm one shot, finishing A Little Bit Brighter is recommended but not essential to be able to read this story.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Series: A Little Bit Brighter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013151
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	#1 Crush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ponderosa (ponderosa121)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderosa121/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to the one and only Pond! As a gift, I'm sending you back to my Big Bang AU. This juicy little story has as much goodness as I could squeeze into it. BAMF Malcolm, sexy times with the boys and a few other easter eggs hidden amongst it. 
> 
> And because everyone loves a thirst trap, the pool is back ;o) 
> 
> Huge thanks to [TheCosmicMushroom](/users/TheCosmicMushroom/) for their superhuman beta efforts to whip this into something befitting the occasion. I could not have done it without you!

**February 2015**

Malcolm tip-toes down the factory walkway, keeping his movements controlled as he listens to the sounds of the building around him. The joint ATF/FBI task force, who had identified the distribution point for a clandestine tobacco ring, had needed his expertise to follow the path from shop owners to cartel commissars. It had led them to an innocuous building in New Jersey, whose signage promised a soda-bottling factory.

Behind him, he can hear the distant banging of the other task force members clearing the warehouse one room at a time, the sound of thuds and shouts echoing with ease.

_“Delta, I’ve located the tobacco. No hostiles on site.”_

Intel on this cartel’s operations had prepared them to expect at least one person guarding the stash. He needs to keep moving.

Upon reaching the end of the capping conveyor belt, Malcolm arrives at a door with a frosted-glass window. The light travels through an identical window on the far wall of the adjacent room, and can see the outline of rectangular shapes to one side. Malcolm figures it must be used as a store room between two bottling areas. He clasps the door handle in one hand, his gun drawn in the other.

To his left, stacks of boxes line up neatly along the wall. Malcolm stands in the doorway, listening for signs of life, and once the sound of the door swinging open subsides, he picks up the shallow breathing of someone hiding amongst the boxes. After standing for a few more seconds without being tackled, Malcolm takes a calculated risk.

“FBI, do you need help?” he calls out.

Silence answers. Malcolm tries again.

“My name is Agent Bright, and I’m not here to hurt you. Can we talk? Please?”

Malcolm counts to twenty before he hears the sound of shoes scuffing against the concrete. The crouching figure of a man in his sixties creeps out from behind the stack of supplies. Being careful not to spook his new friend, Malcolm inches toward the trembling man while maintaining eye contact.

“Hi there. Can you tell me your name and what you’re doing here?” A frantic shake of the head is all the reply he gets. Next question, then.

“We’re here to find the people who ship the tobacco. Do you know what I’m talking about?” This earns him a nod. “Great. Do you know where they could be?” The man points a finger to the door opposite the one Malcolm had just entered. “Right. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to take you to a friend of mine, and he’s going to take care of you. Sound good?”

Before the pair can make any progress toward the door, a crash and a shout erupt from the manufacturing floor. Malcolm makes out the odd “Freeze!” and “Stop!” command from the tactical team, and it doesn’t take long to realise that they’re in the path of the men they had come to find. They can’t go back, so instead his gaze darts to the as-yet-unopened door to the neighboring manufacturing floor and comes up with an idea.

“Change of plans. We’re going through that door you told me about, okay?”

Malcolm ushers his companion toward the closed door as a prompt for the man to open it. Then, he lunges for the door he’d entered through, slamming it closed and shutting out the clanging of machinery falling apace. 

Malcolm shepherds the man into the next bottling room and gently guides him toward the wall beside the door, positioning himself adjacent to the door frame. He leaves the door open and holds a protective arm in front of the panicked man to stop him from running off. Sensing the man’s nerves, Malcolm glances back at him.

“I need you to stay here, can you do that?” He receives a frantic head bob in reply between gasping breaths. “Great.”

BANG.

The door in the next room flies open, and Malcolm listens intently for the sound of footfalls, waiting until just the right moment. One he’s sure that it’s arrived, he steps toward the open doorway and raises his arm perpendicular to his body.

He times it perfectly.

The fleeing suspect doesn’t know what hit him. The sudden loss of momentum causes his legs to fly out from under him, and he lands on his back with a thud. He lies on the floor, coughing and gurgling from the impact to his throat. Malcolm uses the distraction to his advantage and rolls the man over, cuffing his hands swiftly.

“Never thought I’d get to use that move on the job.” Malcolm laughs to himself before checking on his newfound friend. A gaping mouth and eyes as wide as saucers stare back. This guy won’t give him _anything_ to work with. “Right, just gonna… radio this in.”

Before Malcolm can open a channel, three agents running full-tilt rush through the doorway and have to pull up short to avoid trampling their suspect.

“Bright, did you do this?” Agent Maddox asks.

“Uh… yeah. Didn’t have much help from my friend here, so I had to think of something.” Malcolm waves in the direction of the shell-shocked employee.

“Nice work. We’ll take him, you bring your… friend along, too, for a statement.” Maddox bends down and grabs the still-gasping man under the elbow, helping him to stand.

Malcolm wanted to walk his arrest back to the van, but seniority overrules his desires once again. Determined to appear unfazed, he calls out as they walk back, “Absolutely. Can’t wait!” As soon as he says the words, he cringes. He can never quite manage the level of banter the other agents throw around so easily.

Maybe it will come with time.

“Come on, let’s see if you can tell us anything useful. I promise I won’t bite.” Guiding the older man back toward the task force cars, Malcolm can’t help but smile. The wind up of this case fits in perfectly with his next scheduled visit to New York. He has a certain police academy recruit to catch up with and share the particulars of this very worthy story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re asking me to believe that you, Mr. Short Stack himself, managed to clothesline someone in the Latin Kings cartel?” JT asks dubiously, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead like a pair of inquisitive caterpillars.

“I promise you, it was like something out of a wrestling movie. The guy was _also_ average height, so it worked like a charm.” Malcolm laughs. “Not everybody can be as tall as you.”

“Well, if you say it happened, guess I gotta believe you. But I will never let you live it down if it turns out you're lying.”

“I guess that’s fair. So, now that we’ve got myupdate out of the way, I want to hear about how your training is going at the academy. Have they covered ‘Love of Donuts 101’ yet?” Malcolm smirks.

JT’s eyebrows plummet down his forehead into a mock frown. “Cops are more than just stereotypes.”

“I know, I know,” Malcolm admits.

“Though I do have a hankering for a jelly donut every now and then. Consider me self-taught.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when we pick the next café. But really, how is the training going?”

JT proceeds to regale Malcolm with tales from the NYPD training program, covering basic PT to communications classes. Not one to talk with his body, JT remains relatively still. Yet Malcolm can sense the excitement and pride in JT about his new career direction. Six months had passed since they’d parted after their first coffee date, and they continued to meet whenever Malcolm came back to town. He managed to squeeze in a visit almost once a month, which was no mean feat with his nomadic lifestyle. For someone who doesn’t always enjoy coming to Manhattan, with JT around, he found excuses to return home easier and easier. 

Mother didn’t necessarily know about all of them. He came back for one reason only, and that reason is currently across from him.

Malcolm’s stomach still lurches with anticipation just like the first time he’d spotted JT, and during their last visit, he had noticed a subtle shift in the veteran’s body language. Malcolm hoped that he might want to get a bit closer, too, so since it was his turn to pick the café this time around, he’d decided to choose one of his favorites. That it happened to be a two minute walk from his loft was a happy coincidence.

They’d enjoyed the coffee and each other’s company for almost an hour, and the time for them to part loomed. Malcolm decides to take the plunge.

“So, remember on the Jet Fuel case, when I mentioned that I had a pool in my loft? Well, my house is two minutes that way,” Malcolm points over JT’s shoulder, “and I was wondering if you wanted to check it out?” Malcolm’s heart hammers in his chest as he waits for an answer.

JT appears to give the question some deep thought. “You want me, a declared lover of land, to check out your pool in the middle of winter?”

“Just from an interior design perspective. I’m not suggesting you swim in it.” He hopes that JT doesn’t spot the obvious lie. He also hopes he doesn’t spot the little tug against his pants as the image of a stripped-down JT flashes in his mind’s eye.

“Well, I always did want to see what rich boys like you waste their money on.” JT stands up and puts his winter coat back on. “Come on, Quantico. Lead the way.”

The two men keep conversation to a minimum, focusing on finding the best way to keep the winter wind out of their many layers. The pace they set is brisk, and Malcolm’s brain buzzes as he plays out various scenarios in his head of how this first visit to his loft might go. All too soon, they arrive at his door, and his imaginings fall away as he focuses on opening the door quickly. The building’s heating blasts the pair with a wall of warm air so intense, the two men shuck off their coats as soon as the door swings closed.

“Is there a reason you live in one of the seven circles of hell?” JT wisecracks.

“Literally or metaphorically?”

“It’s like a sauna in here,” JT clarifies, joke lost in translation.

“I like the warmth, and I can afford the bill.” Malcolm shrugs. “Anyway, welcome to my loft. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Malcolm decides to start in the main living space, curious to see what JT thinks of his weapons collection. JT reacts with awe when he finds the seventeenth century flintlock pistol, practically drooling.

“Man, what I wouldn’t give for one of these,” JT sighs, almost wistfully.

“If I see one at the next auction, I’ll keep an eye out for you.” The look JT throws back at him sends shivers down his spine.

“Aw hell, you can’t do that, man.”

“Sure I can. I have to waste my money on something, remember? Speaking of wasting money, let me show you the pool.” Malcolm heads back toward the staircase and leads JT down to the ground floor. He opens the door with little fanfare, instead letting the room do the talking. The vibrant, blue water appears inviting even in the middle of winter.

JT whistles. “You have this in your apartment. In. Sane.”

“It helps me relax. Especially after a PTSD episode,” Malcolm admits.

JT doesn’t seem to know how to reply, so they stare at the water in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Malcolm nearly suggests they head back upstairs when JT blurts out, “Let’s have a race.”

“What?”

“A race. Or a time trial. We’ve squared off in my natural environment, it’s only fair we try it in yours.”

“I thought you weren’t a water guy.” Malcolm squints.

“Your decision to live in the Sahara is motivating me somewhat. I am roasting in here, man.”

Malcolm’s heart rate spikes again. He loves a good competition, and swimming means he’ll get to see more of JT. “What’s in it for me?”

A devilish grin spreads across JT’s face. “The loser has to strip.” 

Malcolm’s jaw drops.

JT makes a start on removing his shoes. “I’m just gonna go ahead and assume you’re in.” Shoes dealt with, JT makes quick work of peeling his sweater and shirt off. Malcolm, still frozen in shock, gawks at the rock-solid body standing in front of him. It’s not until JT stops and gently nudges him on the arm that he manages to break free of his reverie. “You okay? I won’t go any further if you’re not okay with this.”

“Oh God, sorry.” His adrenaline kicks in, and suddenly he can’t get undressed fast enough. He throws his clothes with abandon against the walls, the floor, wherever they happen to land. By the time Malcolm finishes, he stands there in his black briefs, panting from the flurry of activity. He’s not playing this cool at all.

“Okay, then.” JT smirks and slowly unzips his jeans to reveal his own checkered pair of boxers.

JT keeps his cool, but Malcolm has turned into a bundle of nerves. He _wants_ this, but he’s so out of practice. Feeling his anxiety peaking, he asks, “So, who’s going first?”

“I’ll go first. If you go first, there’s no way I’m following. How long do you think we should swim for, five minutes?” JT proposes.

Malcolm shakes his head. “If you’re out of practice, three minutes of freestyle will be more than enough. I’m assuming you know freestyle?”

“Yes, Quantico, believe it or not, we had pools where I grew up. Okay, let’s get this show on the road.” JT makes his way to the water’s edge and doesn’t so much slide into the pool as he does fall in.

Malcolm waits for the waves to settle before pointing out, “There were steps at the back, you know.”

“That would have been helpful to know a few seconds ago,” JT deadpans.

“You didn’t wait for instructions.” Malcom shrugs before jutting his chin out toward the end of the pool. “Off you go, I’ll give you a countdown.”

JT wades through the water to the end of the pool, and as he does, Malcolm notices two tattoos on his back. The first looks to be related to his service in the army, but the second one he can’t quite make out. Malcolm hopes he gets a chance to examine it up close later. JT glances up expectantly, and with a “three, two, one,” he pushes off the wall and starts flailing like a guy trying to outrun a shark. Malcolm gets the sense he won’t be able to maintain the frenetic pace.

Time proves his suspicion correct, and for the last minute of JT’s run, his strokes slow. This allows Malcolm to fully appreciate the tight muscles flexing across JT’s back as he swims back and forth.

“And time,” he shouts. JT comes up breathing heavily. Malcolm can’t help but smile. “You did well, sixteen laps. And now, it’s my turn. Towels are behind us in the cupboard over there.”

“Just… give me… a second…” JT pants.

Malcolm takes the steps into the pool and uses JT’s proximity to the wall as an excuse to get close to the other man as he readies himself for his sprint. As their bodies brush against each other, Malcolm tosses a grin up at JT. “Take all the time you need.”

With JT still breathing heavily, Malcolm can’t tell if his flirting lands or not, so he gives the man some space so he can exit the pool. JT situates himself with a towel and shouts out the same “three, two, one,” countdown. Malcolm pushes off the wall, and soon, he’s zoned out in the peace of the waters. His body relaxes in the familiar rhythm of swimming, so much so he doesn’t notice JT shimmying out of his boxers and making his way to the edge of the pool. When he calls time just as Malcolm pushes off of the wall, JT sits down on the pool’s edge and dangles his legs in the water. Malcolm returns, his breathing nowhere near as labored as JT’s had been. He keeps his shoulders in the water, pushing his wet hair away from his face and the water out of his eyes, searching for JT where he had stood earlier. He turns slowly and is met with the sight of a completely naked JT. His legs straddle Malcolm’s shoulders, and in between them sits JT’s rock-hard cock.

“That was… nice viewing, Bright.” JT commends.

“I… uh…” Malcolm trails off, a little dumbfounded.

“You said loser has to strip, right? Well, I think we both know who was winning out of the two of us. I just skipped ahead.” JT slides to the edge of the pool then in and stands in front of Malcolm, watching for a reaction. Waiting to see if he’d moved too fast. Malcolm pulls himself toward JT and draws him into a watery kiss, his legs wrapping around JT’s on instinct rather than careful planning.

Malcolm doesn’t want to miss this window before it closes.

Their bodies press against each other under the water, hands exploring as their tongues dance together with a need that surprises even Malcolm. His pulse jumps again as the exhilaration of finally being able to be with JT in a way he’d only dreamed of hits him. He moves his hand toward JT’s stomach and trails it down toward JT’s cock, taking his length firmly in his grip and tugging. At this point, JT pulls away with a gasp, and Malcolm worries _he’s_ moved too quickly.

“How about we take this to somewhere a little less… wet,” JT suggests. Lust burns in his eyes, and Malcolm can’t agree fast enough.

“I have a bed upstairs…” Malcolm offers.

JT grins. “After you.” 

Malcolm climbs out of the pool and retrieves a towel for himself, drying off as quickly as he can. JT, less concerned about the time, his cock still hard and swaying, rubs the towel over his skin before tucking it in around his waist. Malcolm mirrors JT before they make their way back up the stairs.

The two men stand next to the bed, their eyes taking each other in. Malcolm hasn’t done this in a while, and the anticipation of wanting to have JT standing here with him for the last six months paralyzes him. Should he make the first move?

In the same instant, they start toward each other, picking different directions and nearly butting heads. JT jerks back before they can connect, laughing awkwardly.

“I… haven’t done this in a while. I’m a little out of practice,” JT admits.

“You’re not alone there.” Malcolm huffs, fixing his gaze on the floor. Suddenly, he feels a hand under his jaw, tilting his head up to meet JT’s eyes. He leans into the offered palm, and a jolt of electricity sparks where their bare skin meets, shooting through his body. The energy drags him toward JT like a magnet, so he closes the gap between them and brings his lips to JT’s. Though not as deep as the one they’d shared in the pool, Malcolm leans into the kiss, hoping JT wants this as much as he does. The hand on his face disappears only to make its way to his back, sliding down to his still-toweled ass before yanking his body tight into JT’s. Falling toward him, Malcolm moans softly in approval as they stand flush against each other.

JT breaks the kiss and stares into Malcolm’s eyes, his espresso-colored irises boring into his soul. “This okay?”

Malcolm sighs and rests his head on JT’s chest. “More than okay.”

“I know I said I wasn’t ready to have someone in my life, but I think I am now. What do you think?” Apprehension rings in JT’s voice, and Malcolm’s heart feels full that the realization that this is really happening. The right words escape him, so he decides to show JT instead.

Malcolm hooks a finger on the towel around JT’s waist and peers through his eyelashes with a smirk. “I think you’re a little overdressed, let me help you with that.” The loosely tied towel gives way easily, and once again JT stands completely naked. A less-than-impressed expression overtakes his face.

“Pretty sure you’re still wearing more than me.” JT sits down on the bed, leaning back on his arms and waves an arm in Malcolm’s direction. “Your turn.”

Malcolm grins as he pulls his own towel away from his body, leaving only his waterlogged briefs.

“Now, that’s not a good look, is it,” JT admonishes.

“Give me a sec, I’m working on it.” He thumbs the elastic and works his underwear down his legs, the wet fabric clinging to his skin. Getting them off takes more work than he expected, and definitely won’t rank in his top ten sexiest moves. Nevertheless, he peels them off and flicks them dramatically with his foot, and they hit the floor near the window with a slap. He strikes a pose. “Better?”

JT sits back up on the mattress and answers, “Hell. Yes,” before taking Malcolm’s hand and leading him toward the bed. They fall onto the sheets and find themselves kissing like they had in the pool, uninhibited and raw.

It’s everything he wanted.

Their bodies intertwine, and their hands explore each other. Malcolm’s cock fills out quickly from the friction between them, and when JT’s hands reach down and drag along his length, he can’t help but gasp. The caress on his cock makes him feel lightheaded, and he almost collapses against JT right then and there. Working down from JT’s neck, Malcolm drops feather-light kisses all the way along his chest and stomach until he reaches his throbbing cock. A bead of precum glistens on the tip, waiting just for him. Taking it in his hand and relishing the moan, Malcolm takes JT’s length into his mouth and swallows as much as he can. He can’t remember the last time he doled out pleasure like this, and it feels so good. JT’s hips thrust upward in response to Bright’s attentions, which only makes Malcolm redouble his efforts. The legs on either side of his head start to shake. 

“God, Bright, what are you doing?” JT asks between staggered breaths.

Malcolm pulls off with a pop and a Cheshire cat grin. “What I’m good at.”

“Mmmm… get up here,” JT commands, reaching for Malcolm’s arm and guiding him back up to his mouth. Salty and desperate, their next kiss makes it clear that neither of them intends to stop any time soon. Malcolm withdraws and sits atop JT, taking in every beautiful inch of bare skin lying underneath him.

JT stares into his eyes, panting slightly as he asks, “What do you want, Bright?”

Malcolm leans back down and whispers in JT’s ear. “I want you to fuck me. I wanna feel you inside me.”

A low growl rumbling deep within JT’s chest is all the warning Malcolm gets before strong arms wrap around him and flip their positions. “You sure, Quantico?”

Malcolm wraps his leg around JT’s hips and pulls him closer. “I meant what I said. I’ve wanted this since that day in the VA gym. I want _you.”_

JT huffs lightly. “I guess there’s no mistaking that now. You got any…?”

“Bedside drawer, right-hand side.”

JT retrieves the lube and a condom, tossing them on the bed within reach for when they’re needed. Malcolm can sense JT’s still a little nervous and decides not to push him too hard. The first time, at least. “Pass me the lube.”

Malcolm busies himself, working quickly to get himself ready. JT’s large hand wraps around Malcolm’s cock, working it up and down while he presses one, two, then three fingers into his own greedy hole, forcing a gasp from his mouth. He’s been taking care of himself for so long, and now that the moment has arrived for him to share his bed with someone, his body hums in anticipation. He struggles to control his breathing and stop his hips from rocking into JT’s movements; he needs JT, and he needs him _now._

“Fuck me, JT, right now,” Malcolm begs.

JT prepares himself with the speed of someone first in line at a Black Friday sale, and before Malcolm knows it, a hand slides from his knee down to his ass, teasing his rim for a moment. A yearning moan escapes from Malcolm’s chest, and JT hums in satisfaction. JT gently spreads Malcolm’s legs around wide hips, and that delicious cock presses between his ass cheeks.

“No more waiting, I’m ready,” Malcolm pants, his voice raw with longing. 

JT doesn’t. He pushes into Malcolm, and instantly, his body revels in the pleasure/pain of the stretch. Malcolm releases a long sigh. 

The moment has finally arrived.

“God, you feel good, Bright. So good for me,” JT drawls.

A shiver runs down his spine at the praise, but today, his kinks take a back seat. Today, he needs to be in the moment. “Harder, JT,” Malcolm breathes, his fingers clawing desperately on JT’s back, the balls of his feet sliding down the now-damp sheets as he chases the perfect angle. More than happy to oblige, JT thrusts harder, faster, each one sending them both closer to the edge. Wanting to taste as much of JT as possible, Malcolm reaches up to kiss JT’s neck, the sweat beading on his skin salty with just the slightest hint of chlorine. Malcolm wraps his arms around JT, aching to feel their bodies connected in a way that Malcolm could only dream of yesterday. The firm muscles beneath Malcolm’s fingers bow and flex as they move together as one, grounding him to the bed as he threatens to float away on a cloud of ecstasy. He can feel the pressure of his release building, unable to contain his cries of pleasure as he chases his climax in time with JT’s. As he gets close, a hand closes around his cock one last time, and with the added help and one last cry, he spills onto his stomach. 

Satisfied with Malcolm’s contented smile, JT focuses his own efforts, and within a minute, he climaxes with a few more grunts and a long sigh. JT collapses on the bed, the exertion from the pool and the unexpected bedroom activity suddenly catching up with him. Next to him, Malcolm lets himself go completely boneless, enjoying the overall tingle of his exhausted body.

“I think it’s safe to say that was worth the wait.” Malcolm gazes over to the other man to read his reaction.

His face says it all. “You’re not wrong there.” JT leans in for a soft kiss, one that Malcolm is happy to return. JT smiles gently to himself as he tucks a stray lock of wet hair dangling over Malcolm’s forehead back behind his ear. “So, ah, does this mean you might be making a few more trips to New York in the near future?”

Malcolm grins back. “If this is how you want to spend my visits, I’ll make as many as you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title is inspired by the excellent song bearing the same name by [garbage](https://open.spotify.com/track/2SWWRyjGndHaBWOuhxPJeN?si=EpP1tqOATceAkyZMYaNOCg)
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed this story and want to freak out about all things season 2 come and scream with us on the Prodigal Son 18+ [Trash Server](https://discord.gg/RBN4QGPP9A)


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